


Community Center Blues

by OneOverClover



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, But he's not the focus of the story, Cannon Divergent, Clint Bashing, Cozy Fic?, Eventual Smut, F/M, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Junimos, Magical shit, Platonic Female Friendship, Slow Burn, There's a male farmer, italics abuse, sister bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOverClover/pseuds/OneOverClover
Summary: Emily’s the strange girl in town with a literal floating island inside her head that she can’t account for. Shane’s the town drunk who can’t pretending like he doesn’t see apparitions inside the community center. Paranormal shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Emily/Shane (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

The crickets cheerfully chirp out their melodies hidden from view. It’s creeping up on summer, when the stifling humidity that plagues all quaint seaside towns starts setting in. “ _Quaint” doesn’t even begin to describe Pelican Town_ , Shane thinks. He can feel the sweat already dripping down his back under his JojaMart uniform, the chilly 12-pack he pulled from the cooler just before leaving work pressed to his chest.

It had been a shit day filled with shit customers who judged him for being a grown ass man stocking shelves at a grocery store like a teenager. At least, that’s what he assumes they are all thinking. He came in late and hungover again, and his boss, Morris, had ripped him a new one that morning. He stayed late helping other employees with their tasks to try to make up for it. For the most part it did seem to please management. Take a little give a little.

The sun is setting now, casting a pinkish orange hue across the sky, and he has his cold box of liquid relief. He doesn’t want to take this home, though; doesn’t want Jas to see him wasted again. He continues on the path into town contemplating taking his beer down to the beach and passing out on the sand. ‘Taking a Pelican Beach nap.’ That’s what the locals call it when tourists drink too much while working on their tans. It’s less cute when you’re the town drunk and not a newlywed couple on a weekend getaway.

His attention is caught by a ramshackled building he spots off to the right of the path. He’d heard Marnie call it the ‘old community center’ once. It’s a huge eyesore that he can’t believe the town has left standing this long, but it’s also as good of a place as any to get hammered. Adjusting the box in his grip he trudges across the dew slicked grass, fireflies lazily alighting in the field around him. He looks down the hill at the town below and sees the streetlights turning on one by one. Everything about the picturesque valley seems to taunt him. _We’re all perfect here. You’ll never be one of us. It was better before you came._ He symbolically flips the town the bird before continuing on.

The old center looks even worse up close. Several windows are busted out, and there’s more bare boards than paint at this point, the old clock on top forever stuck at 12:25. Shane tries the doorknob first, but no luck. For whatever reason someone felt the need to lock this shithole up. Probably trying to keep the local homeless guy from squatting inside. He walks around trying each window until he finds one that feels loose against the sill. Setting his beer down for a moment, he forces the weathered wooden frame up enough to crawl through. The waning daylight isn’t doing much to let him see inside, so he has to use his phone as a flashlight. The floorboards give a bit under his feet with each step.

Walking out of the small, empty room he landed in, he moves into a cavernous main room with several doors leading off of it. It’s also empty save for a crumbling stone fireplace against one wall and a massive, fractured fish tank in the corner. He might find the place creepy if he were in a better state of mind. These days, he couldn’t care less if something wants to crawl out of the darkness and attack him. Bring it on, ghosts.

Shane takes a seat on the slightly damp floor and cracks open his first cold one. The cans go down so quick his throat might as well be a funnel. If it were a craft brew, he would slow down a bit and enjoy it, but this cheap, mass-produced swill is only good for getting you blotted out of your mind. He’s maybe three-fourths of the way through the box before he stops to take a breather. His head is floaty, and he feels the day’s tension unknotting from his shoulders. He lets his vision unfocus, gazing into the empty fireplace. It’s a moment before he even reacts to the movement in his view.

Mice? _No._ Why are they green? _What the hell._ They look like… apples? With legs?

The sound of another beer can hissing open echoes off the walls. Well, this might as well happen.

There’s two of them. The apple people. Shane watches them walk across the room and go into the room where he entered the building. Alright, plenty of weird shit has gone down while he’s wasted, but hallucinating is a new one. Curiosity manages to get the better of him, and he gets to his feet, planting a hand on the wall to stop the swaying.

The other room looks just as it did before. No whimsical little creatures scurrying about threatening his sanity. But there’s a note on the floor. Shane stumbles over and picks it up. No, not a note. It looks like a map of the building, but in each room there’s a list of words written out in a language Shane’s never seen before. He folds the map up and tucks it into the pocket of his pants. His mind is in no state to process any of this. Screw the rest of his beer, he’s going home.

\---------------------------------

It’s going to be a remarkably fabulous day. It’s only ten in the morning and Emily can already tell. The smell of fresh brewed coffee hits her as soon as she opens the front door. Haley’s nowhere in sight, but she’s left a pot on the burner for her. Sometimes having a sister isn’t so bad. She flings her gym bag onto the couch and goes to grab her favorite mug from the cupboard. It has a cat painted on it, and the handle is shaped like a rainbow. She fills the cup half with coffee and half with milk. It’s not good to have too much caffeine before meditation.

Emily loves the routine she’s fallen into: get up early to exercise with the other ladies of Pelican town, meditate for a while, then work on her sewing until it’s time for work at the saloon. It’s a packed schedule, but how can you have too much of doing the things you love?

Plus, Emily thinks as she closes the door to her bedroom, she has a secret. A space carved out in her mind that’s just for her. She’s heard others say that when they meditate, it feels like they go somewhere outside of their bodies. That doesn’t even begin to cover what happens for her while deep in meditation. Kicking off her shoes, she sits crisscross applesauce on her bed, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

It’s never instantaneous. She has to work for it. Focusing on the motions of her chest as she breaths, she clears her head until her internal monologue shuts off. Then she just _exists_. She’s totally present in her body until the notion of her physical being begins to meld into the universe.

Then- it happens. It feels sort of like breaking through plastic wrap. Like all that’s separating the real from the surreal is a thin film that heals itself as soon as she passes through it. Emily opens her eyes, and she’s there. The island in her mind. Maybe island isn’t the right word for it. It’s more like a cloud? But then again, there are palm trees. It’s not terribly important what she calls it, as long as she can keep coming here. In theory, she knows this must be in her imagination, but when she’s here it’s so physical, so vivid, she can’t distinguish it from reality.

For her, being on the Island is like being a kid when you manage to build the perfect blanket fort. It’s a cozy space away from the rest of the world where there are no expectations, no struggles. The person she’s meant to be is exactly who she is right now. This is her safe space, and it’s only for her. Lying back on her cloud she’s perfectly at peace.

Time doesn’t pass on her island precisely the way it does in reality. Emily has never been able to get a grasp on whether it passes slower or faster. It seems to vary day to day. Either way, she really should start setting an alarm for herself. It’s far too easy to waist the day away here. A small noise is usually enough to pull her back into her body. Even the front door of her house opening is usually enough to do it - but apparently not today.

A seam splits in the air close to the edge of the Island, opening like a door from one dimension into another. Emily’s attention locks on to the person stepping through, expecting a sage or an oracle arriving to impart some newfound wisdom into her life. Instead in walks… the farmer boy.

At first, she’s too stunned to say anything. No one has ever entered this space before, and if she’s being honest, she feels a bit violated.

“Sheee-it…” the farmer says looking around slack-jawed. “Miss Emily, what is this?”

“I – I call it my island,” she tries to explain as things start to go out of focus. The trees around them blur and loose shape and she feels herself being pushed through the film again.

The next thing she knows, she is sitting on her plush comforter, the farmer standing in the doorway, head swiveling in every direction as if trying to search for an answer to what he has just seen. She notices he’s carrying a bolt of undyed cloth under his arm.

“Was that all in my mind?” he asks.

“I think it was all in my mind. You really saw that?”

“Uh… yep,” he drawls.

The farmer is a hayseed type people have taken to calling Tweed. He’s a bit spacy, but with an overall pleasant aura and optimistic disposition that Emily empathizes with. She was surprised when he told her that he grew up in Zuzu City. For all the world, he seems like he was raised in creek beds and briar patches.

“It’s a place I go when I want to get away from the world.”

“Huh.” He gives the room one last scan with his eyes. “Well, I just stopped by to give you this. Rabbits been sheddin’ like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He holds out the bolt of wool.

“Wow, you’re just going to let this roll right off?” Honestly, she’s impressed at how cavalier he’s being about this whole thing.

Tweed shrugs, “Well, can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like that, but I’ve seen pretty strange things in my weaker moments.” He gives her a wink.

She smiles, relieved, and takes the fabric into her hands, “Did you weave this yourself? It’s pretty good.”

The farmer hooks his thumbs under the straps of his overalls and puffs out his chest. “Sure enough! Not bad for a first try, huh? Figured you could find a good use for it.”

Emily thanks him for his gift and sees him out the door. She’s usually a little more accommodating as a host, but this whole business has her shaken.

If the Island isn’t a space inside her imagination, what in Yoba’s name could it be?

\-----------------------

“Shane, slow down!” a tiny voice calls from behind him.

Shane’s tennis shoes come to a sudden halt on the dirt path. It’s starting to rain, and he should have realized Jas wouldn’t be able to catch up with his quickening pace.

The girl continues to trample toward him clutching the straps of her backpack. “You’re going too fast!”

“I’m not moving at all right now,” he says as she finally catches up with him. A fat raindrop smacks him on the forehead, and he decides to take control of the situation.

Jas squeals with laughter when he picks her up under her arms and puts her on his shoulders. “We need to get a move on. I don’t want your teacher yelling at me because you got to school wet.”

He’s hungover and tired and his back already hurts from unloading a grocery truck at work the previous day, but Shane still manages a decent jogging pace as he pounds down the path. Thankfully, he gets to the school building just as the first bell is ringing for students to go to their classrooms. Miss Penny is outside ushering the children in. Shane sets Jas down a little ways away from the door wanting to stay out of conversation distance.

“Alright, Pumpkin, you good to walk home with your little friend today?”

Jas scrunches her nose up, “Yeah, just don’t call me that again.”

He ruffles her hair, “I’ll try to remember.” It’s a lie. He’s going to keep calling her that.

Miss Penny starts calling for Jas from the schoolhouse door, and the girl takes off running toward the rest of her class.

Alright, he’s dressed for work and he managed to get up in time to walk the kid to school. As far as Shane’s mornings go this one has to be in the top 95 percent when in comes to productivity. It doesn’t really count, because today he has an ulterior motive.

Sometimes just walking through town is a chore for him. The residents of Pelican town are always milling about outside, judging him silently. He knows they see him hobbling home from the saloon most nights alone. That they whisper about him not being a fit guardian for Jas. It hurts the most because it’s true. He wouldn’t have given Aunt Marnie joint guardianship if it weren’t true.

The strange map from last night feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket as he makes his way over the foot bridge to the library. He’s heard folks at the saloon talk about how the librarian is working to build of museum of Stardew Valley’s history. Shane also knows the guy to be a total asshat, but Shane works in customer service, so it’s no skin off his nose.

The library door swings open with a creak, the cool air inside blasting his senses with the familiar smell of old books. It reminds him of being seven years old and playing computer games on floppy discs while his mom worked on her resume at a the northeast Zuzu library.

Gunther, the librarian, is behind the front counter dressed like the proverbial rhinestone cowboy in powder blue western attire with matching hat. Shane almost – _almost –_ turns around and walks right back out. It would be so much easier just to forget about this whole stupid thing. But he already woke up at a decent hour and dragged himself here… and you know, sunken cost fallacy and all that.

Pulling the map from his pocket, Shane approaches the counter. He doesn’t even get a word out before Gunther makes him regret showing up.

“Are you lost? You know this is a library, right?”

Shane rolls his eyes and swallows down a smartass retort, “Yeah, um, I found this, and I’m trying to figure out what language this is.”

Gunther snatches the paper out of his hands and looks it over while scratching his chin. “It’s not a developed language.” He pinches the edges of the map and holds it out to Shane as if it’s something vile to touch.

“You haven’t even looked into it.” he huffs taking the paper back.

“Anthropology is my specialty. This looks like the work of some youngster with an overactive imagination trying to make up their own secret code.”

“Waste of my time…” Shane mutters shaking his head. He’s nearly out the door by the time another though strikes him, “Hey, uh… do you have any books about local folklore?”

The librarian raises a smug eyebrow, “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

Shane shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a deep breathe looking up at the ceiling, “Well… like…” Fuck, he doesn’t even want to say it. “Like apples that walk around. With legs. And arms. And faces I guess.”

Gunther stares blankly at him for a moment before silently walking out from behind the counter and disappearing into the bookshelves. Shane thinks he may have driven him away with his stupidity, but a few moments later he reappears holding a hardcover children’s picture book.

“I think this might be about your speed.”

Shane takes the cool cover into his hands. ‘Junimos Have a Picnic.’ The bright, simple illustrations certainly depict the creatures he saw the previous night. The book itself, however, only has about five words per page and is clearly a story meant for kids, not an explanation of local mythos.

“Junimos?”

“Servants and caretakers of the forest. In some tales they also look out for the good of the townsfolk.” Gunther explains. “Has your daughter been asking about them? She comes in here often, you know. Surprisingly clever girl.”

Shane hands the book back, “She’s not my daughter.”

“Ah, that’s less surprising then.”

What the hell? He knows he has a reputation for being a jerk, but Shane hasn’t ever done anything to this guy in particular. “You know what, I don’t have to fucking take this from you.”

Gunther keeps a self-satisfied smile on his face as he watches Shane stomp out the door into the rain.

\-------------------------------

At the end of the day, it’s the tension that does him in every time. Like someone is winding a spool of twine around his body all day, and it just gets tighter and tighter. The only way to loosen the threads is with some alcoholic lubrication. It’s mostly on the days he works at Joja, which to be fair is most days. There are days when he just works on the ranch and helps with Jas, and he doesn’t drink at all. Most of the town doesn’t see him on those days. They see him at his worst. Though, Shane will concede, he’s at his worst far too often.

As he walks through the automatic sliding glass door at the end of his shift, he knows he won’t make it all the way home without caving. The twine is tight today around his neck and shoulders. A customer had complained about his rudeness to a manager, meaning another lecture, another strike against him. He’s on thin ice, and it’s an unnerving place to be in a town with extremely limited job opportunities. Another customer had gotten angry about a product they were looking for not being in stock and called him a “White trash waist of air.” In the grand scheme of things, Shane can take verbal abuse like a champ, but that one hit a nerve.

He stops on the path a little ways away from the Saloon. It’s Friday night, and things are beginning to get lively. He can see couples dancing in the yellow light glowing from the windows. He hopes Marnie isn’t there for a number of reasons, but the biggest has to be that if she’s at the Saloon, she’s probably there with Lewis. Fuck everything about Lewis.

The Mayor of Pelican town has been dating his aunt for an indeterminant number of years, but he insists on doing so in secret. As if Marnie is someone he should be ashamed to be seen with. He also isn’t great about keeping his opinions about Shane’s drinking and child-rearing skills to himself.

The muffled sound of an upbeat indy tune is audible before Shane even opens the door, and he can smell pizza being baked in the brick oven. Stepping inside, he’s hit with the alienating sounds of friendly chatter and laughter. No one turns to greet him, but he knows everyone has probably been expecting him to turn up at some point tonight. Thankfully, he doesn’t spot Marnie or Lewis.

For a bar in the middle of Podunk nowhere, the owner, Gus, has really done a great job of giving the place a hip, modern vibe. The aesthetic is rustic, with warm lightening, and cushy, padded chairs. There are even a couple of retro arcade machines in a lounge area to the side of the main room.

Shane slips between the groups of chatting friends and dancing couples to make his way to the bar. Emily is working tonight, much to Shane’s relief. Of all the people in Pelican Town, she’s probably the easiest for him to deal with.

“Hiya, Shane,” she says in a friendlier tone than he deserves, and with a twirl she sets a stein of beer down in front of him as if she knew to expect him at this very moment.

“Geeze, maybe I should make an effort to be more unpredictable.” He pulls a stool out from the bar to take a seat.

She gives him a smile that creases the corners of her eyes, and it’s almost enough to make him want to return it. Smiling at Shane is just not something people do. “There’s something to be said for keeping a steady schedule.”

“Yeah, probably not when it involves going to the saloon every night.” He tilts his glass back and the hoppy ale pleasantly burns his throat on the way down.

“You should get something in your stomach before you start knocking em’ back.” Emily slaps a menu down in front of him. “Hey, you weren’t here last night. Have a date or something?”

The notion that someone else thinks that another human being would be romantically interested in him at this point in his life is almost laughable. Then again, Emily seems to always want to think the best about people. “I really don’t think that’s a question that requires an answer.”

She shrugs, “Huh, guess you’re right. I mean, where would you even take a date in this town besides here?”

Shane doesn’t feel like trying to explain to her why her line of thinking is flawed, so he brushes it off and places an order for pepper poppers.

The music switches over to a song with a slower tempo, and more couples get up from their seats to dance. Shane keeps his eyes focused on his drink. Not that anyone would pay him any mind, anyway. He’s practically part of the saloon decor at this point. A painting so familiar, you could pass by it for years without ever taking any note.

A few minutes later Emily returns with his food and Shane starts digging through his pockets for his wallet. He finds a tiny plastic tiger toy that Jas must have put there for some reason, and then map from the community center. He sets both on the counter and looks in another pocket.

“Hey, what’s this?” Emily says grabbing the paper. “It looks like a coded message.”

“Just some bullshit I found in the old community center.” Shane isn’t about to admit to hallucinating tiny mythical creatures. “I showed it to the librarian. He thinks some kid made it.”

She places the map on the bar and holds a flat palm about an inch from its surface, “Hmmmm… I don’t know about that. This has a strange energy.”

Oh, right. It had slipped his mind that Emily is into all sorts of woo woo nonsense. Well, he’s certainly not in any position to disparage someone else’s faults.

“The reverberations feel like something that’s been deep in the forest for a very long time. I think -” She starts tracing over the symbols with her index finger. “I think you should show this to Mister Rasmodius.”

Shane finally finds his wallet in the inner pocket of his jacket, “What, that unhinged fucker in the tower that calls himself a wizard? Yeah, I’m not happy that I’m even in the same zip code as that guy.”

Emily shakes her head, “Don’t mistake him for some sort of charlatan. Mister Rasmodius is tapped into arcane forces. I can feel it in his aura.”

He pulls out some cash fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to spoil things with one of the few folks in town he has a good report with. “Okaaaay, if you say so.”

“Good! He’s usually at home most days. If he’s reluctant to help you out, tell him I told you stop by. He taught me everything I know about crystal energies.” She grabs Shane’s empty glass and starts to refill it from the tap.

No one ever has to ask if he wants another round anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Y'all. So, for the purposes of this fic, Pelican Town has a normal population size for a small town. There won't be any OCs (Besides the farmer), but Jas goes to a normal school, and there are more than like 15 townsfolk.
> 
> This is my first time writing a fic that I've plotted out before hand, but I'm still not quite sure how many chapters I'll end up with. I sort of just write until I feel the chapter is long enough, and then I end on that plot point.


	2. Chapter 2

Shopping at Pierre’s is like shopping in an alternate universe. That’s how Emily likes to think about it. Browsing through the aisles, all the usual suspects are there: flour, milk, eggs. But there are none of the brands you’d expect to find in your typical grocery store. There’s honey sourced from a beekeeper a few miles away, fish caught by the local anglers and cleaned on the docks, wines made in small batches from a vineyard just outside of Zuzu City. Of course, what Pierre’s is really known for is the fresh, seasonal produce from nearby farms. Bespoke wooden display shelves line the interior of the shop laden with the final bounties of Spring.

Emily fills her shopping basket with kale, turnips, a crusty baguette, some strawberry preserves in a jar with a handwritten label. Unfortunately, shopping local isn’t an option for everything she needs. Luckily, she’d been able to place an order with Pierre for aquamarine stones from a mine in a bordering region. She was worried she might have to go to JojoMart. Aquamarine is imbued with calming energies that reduce stress. Emily also grinds it up and uses it in dyes for fabric and her hair.

Pierre’s daughter, Abigail is working the register today. She looks miserable. Emily does her best to draw warmth from within herself and radiate friendly energy. It may be working as the corners of Abby’s mouth turn up when she sees Emily approaching the counter. “Hey, Em’. Your order came in yesterday.”

Abigail is younger, probably around Haley’s age – though Emily can’t imagine the pair of them as friends. Today the girl’s vivid purple hair is piled up in a loose bun on the top of her head, and a burlap apron is tied around her waist. She bends out of sight beneath the counter and returns with a small, cloth-wrapped package.

Emily rushes over, setting her basket down with a clatter. She’s been excited to get her hands on the new stones, especially since her nerves have been on edge after the farmer’s visit to her island. She starts unwrapping the parcel the second it’s in her grasp.

“Wow,” Abby says looking down at the sparkling blue gems, “They’re gorgeous. What can you use them for?”

Emily picks the largest of the aquamarines up between her thumb and forefinger and holds it up to the light. She’s not surprised by Abigail’s interest. Mostly because she’s had the feeling for quite a while that the girl might look up to her a little bit. “Well, as you can imagine, they have the practical use of being quite good at making things blue.”

She gives her cerulean hair a faux toss over her shoulder. It’s too short to actually move much, but the gesture has the desired effect of making Abigail smile. “They’re also very calming stones. When people are going through major life changes, they can help smooth out some of the rough edges. I like to keep one in my pocket when I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

“Huh.” Abigail holds her hand over the stones as if she’s trying to sense their energy. Emily wonders if it’s a natural reflex or something she has seen Emily do before.

“That’s an adorable thing to think,” A rough voice says from behind her shoulder.

Emily turns to see Clint, the town’s blacksmith standing behind her with a sack full of green beans.

Abigail raises an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean by that?”

The man’s face grows red, “Oh… uh… nothing. It’s just really feminine or something, you know. I’ve learned a lot about gemstones in my line of work.” He pauses to shift his produce bag onto his portly stomach. “Those get their color from a mineral reaction to iron. They’re real pretty to look at, but that’s about all.”

Emily wants to politely tell him that she believes he’s wrong, but the words stick in her throat like a wine cork. She’s never been any good at conflict.

Clint shifts back and forth on his feet and runs his free hand over his goatee while the two women just stare at him. “Well, I’d be happy to teach you sometime. About how gems are formed. Uh, I mean, I’m talking to Emily here.”

“I… sure. That sounds like fun,” Emily says to placate him. She actually already knows quite a bit about gem formation.

His face lights up like a ruddy oil lamp, “Really? Oh, that’s great! Well, I gotta go pick out a cut of salmon for tonight,” He motions with a thumb behind him toward the refrigerated section. “I’ll catch up with you again later. I can’t wait.”

“ _What an ass_ ,” Abigail mutters under her breath once Clint is out of earshot.

Emily piles the stones together and re-wraps them. “I’m sure he means well.” She isn’t sure how true that statement is. The blacksmith has a very unusual aura, that she can’t quite decipher.

“What the hell did he mean by calling it a feminine thing to think?” she huffs. “If I was a sorceress, I’d turn him into a frog.”

Emily grins and starts taking the rest of her groceries out of the basket, “Now that is something that I’m pretty sure isn’t possible.”

Abigail starts punching the merchandise prices manually into the old cash register, “You know, when I was misbehaving as a kid, and I mean being a total brat, my mom used to tell me that there was a woman who lives deep in the mountains who could turn people into doves. She would threaten to take me to her if I didn’t behave.”

“Wow, that’s really harsh.” She can’t imagine saying something like that to a child.

“Yeah, my mom can be a bitch sometimes,” Abigail shrugs. “The thing is, she said it with such conviction it really seemed like there was some truth to it.”

“Our minds are very open when we’re very young, but that also means we’re very easily distressed.”

“Yeah, could be worse.” Abby expertly opens up a paper shopping bag with a flick of her wrist. “At least I’m not a dove.”

\--------------------------------------

There’s something peculiar about the combination of the dim, florescent lights inside JojaMart and the translucence of the glass that makes Shane look like death whenever he catches sight of his reflection in the doors of the freezer section. He knows it’s more than just the constant stream of booze that never quite leaves his system. This job is literally sucking the life out of him.

There are nice, updated Jojas near Zuzu City with bakeries and fresh-rolled sushi. The store in Pelican Town is not one of those stores. Inside, it looks more like the Discount Save-Mart that Shane used go to with him mom when he was a kid. The one with the empty claw machine at the front and the meat department with a constant odor like how he imagines salmonella smells.

He turns his attention back to the task at hand – stocking potato chips. His managers usually try to put him to work filling the shelves to minimize his interaction with customers, which is fine by Shane. He wishes he could zone out, just let muscle memory take over while his mind goes somewhere else. Unfortunately, it’s a gift he seems to totally lack, and he’s achingly present for every moment of his miserable employment.

He’s putting the chips on the shelf in the way they he’s seen them at every grocery store in his entire life, with all the flavors of the same brand grouped together. They come in the boxes that way, so it’s easier anyway. That is apparently, not good enough for his management.

“This is haphazard and ill thought out.” Morris is berating him before Shane even realizes it’s directed toward him. “You have to think like the customers! How can you expect them to find what they are looking for when the varieties are scattered all over the place?”

Shane bites the inside of his cheek, forcing down his annoyance toward this manager. He has to keep this job. Rent is due at Marnie’s next week. Jas is depending on him.

“Your lack of care and dedication to this company isn’t going unnoticed, you know,” Morris continues. “That coupled with the _reputation_ you carry with the locals is making you more of a liability than an asset.”

“Alright,” he says after a deep breath.

Morris narrows his eyes. “Alright, _what_?”

“Alright, I’ll move the fucking chips around.”

Shane can visibly see the displeasure in his manager’s face turn into real anger. “You have no idea how _thin_ the ice is that you are standing on.” It sounds like a threat, but Morris just turns heel and marches off across the store.

Shit. He probably should have handled that better.

As he begins shifting around armfuls of potato chip bags, he can feel the note from the community center crinkling in the front pocket of his uniform. He has no idea why he’s been carrying the damn thing around with him. Shane presses his hand to his chest over the place where the paper is, as if holding it closer to his body will help him absorb its meaning through osmosis.

“Dude, I think he just feels like busting your balls today,” says a voice from behind him.

Shane turns to see Sam leaning against an open-top cooler filled with frozen onion rings. Sam is a college-aged skater kid who works at Joja part time and does fuck all else the rest of the time. No one bats an eye though, because he’s still young enough to get away with having no direction in life.

Sam tilts his head of spikey blond hair back to drain the last of a can of JojaCola. He must be finishing up his break. As far as his co-workers go, Sam is tolerable enough to work with if only for the fact that he never really tries to talk to Shane. Except for today, apparently.

“No one ever stocks chips that way,” Sam says crushing his empty can in his hand.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Shane huffs hoping that this isn’t an attempt to start a conversation.

“This place sucks. They try to make you feel like crap so they can treat you like crap. Some days, I just have to put my job in its own little box in my mind, so I can still walk out of here with my head up. Know what I mean?”

Shane just grunts in response, because truthfully, he has no idea how anyone could do that – just leave all the bullshit behind when they walk out the door.

“The way I see it,” Sam says standing upright, “Joja gets me for however many hours a week they get me, and not a minute more. Then, I do whatever the hell it takes to live my best life. I play my music too loud; I ride my board without a helmet. “

“What the hell is your point?” Shane asks rubbing the heel of his hand into his forehead. He really doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“Just sayin’, having something a little exciting outside of this place can help you feel like a human again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to sell my soul for minimum wage.”

Shane just shakes his head as he watches his co-worker head to the front to clock in. What a dumb kid. Sam has no clue about being a real adult. That there’s nothing exciting about paying rent and looking after a kid… well helping look after a kid. There’s nothing that he looks forward to throughout days.

Except the booze.

The notion gives him pause. The memory of Emily refilling his glass without even having to ask crosses through his mind. There has to be something more. Something else that he wants.

His hand grazes over the paper in his front pocket again. He’s been kidding himself that he hasn’t been aware of its presence all day.

Well, looks like its off to see the fucking Wizard.

\--------------------------------------

The tower rises over the trees, reflecting off the forest river. In certain weather, when the sky grows gray and thunder rattles the whole valley, the structure can appear quite intimidating. Today though, with bright sunshine highlighting the flowering vines crawling up the stone walls, it looks positively whimsical. Shane even sees A pair of squirrels chitter chattering as they chase each other around the cylindrical building.

The rough-hewn door has an ornate, heavy knocker as if it were a medieval fortress. Shane reaches up to grip the iron ring in his fist an brings it down solidly against the wood causing an unsettlingly loud crack to echo through the trees. Almost immediately, the door swings inward revealing a cavernous emptiness on the other side. There’s no one in sight. Fuck. Shane knows this guy exists. He’s seen him trudging through forest collecting random shit growing on the ground. Not that he has any room to judge what other people do in the woods at night. Shane had been getting blasted.

Putting a hand against the doorframe, Shane leans inside and tries to take a look around the dim interior.

“Ah, there you are. Come in,” says a deep, melodic voice somewhere in front of him.

It takes a moment for Shane’s eyes to adjust to the light difference, but after a few steps inside, the room he’s able to take everything in. The first thing that stands out is a massive cauldron bubbling with green liquid. It’s the exact color of the green apple slushies he used to buy at the convenience store when he lived in Zuzu City. Those never had acrid smoke rising off of them, though.

The next thing Shane notices is the “wizard” himself. Man, does the guy ever go all in on the costume. He’s decked out with a black cape and hat, standing over an area of the floor covered in some sort of designs or runes or something.

He takes a few steps closer to Shane, “I am Rasmodius. Seeker of the arcane truths. Mediary between physical and ethereal. Master of the seven elements.”

“Yeah, uh. Shane,” he says rubbing his neck.

“Of course.” The wizard walks over back over to his runes. “You do not believe in Yoba.”

“You know, it’s come to my attention recently that I am really easy to read.”

A surprisingly soft smile spreads across the older man’s face. “And yet you have seen something which you cannot explain.”

Has Emily already talked to this guy? She must have talked to this guy.

“Look, I don’t really have time to chat.” He’s got a date with a bottle of jaeger tucked under his mattress.

“Very well.” The wizard holds out his palm. “I sense you have something to show me.”

Shane fishes the note out of his pocket and hands it over. Something in the wizard’s demeanor changes the moment he touches the paper. An array of expressions quickly flash across his face, first curiosity, then disbelief, and when he finally looks back up at Shane there are tears threatening to spill over his lower eyelids. “Tell me, have you spoken with them?”

He shakes his head, “The apple people? Nah, I mean I’m still about 75 percent sure I hallucinated them.”

Rasmodius clutches the note to his chest and swallows a lump in his throat. “I have spent decades trying to commune with Junimos. They have never even deemed me worthy enough to make an appearance. I’ve only ever felt the energies they leave behind.”

Oh geeze. Shane really did not buy a ticket to hop on this guy’s feelings train. “So, can you read what it says?”

“Ah,” The wizard says scanning the paper again, obviously trying to regain his composure. “The unseen arts are sometimes a matter a trial and error, but this is more of an educated guess.” With his thumb and forefinger, he tears off a blank corner of the note.

Shane is surprised by the tiny flicker of shock he feels when he hears the paper rip.

The wizard strides across the room over to the bubbling cauldron. “This is simmering with ingredients from the woods: baby fern, moss grub, caramel-top toad stool… and now just hint of the essence of the forest,” he says tossing the tiny scrap of paper into the liquid.

Immediately the contents begin boiling rapidly. The smell of wild garlic and grass after the rainfall spreads throughout the room. Shane watches as the wizard picks up a large silver ladle sitting on a wooden stool by the cauldron.

“Here. Drink up.” He fills the ladle with the green mixture.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” Shane says incredulously.

Rasmodius walks closer to him with the full ladle. The steam filling his lungs is making his head spin.

“You must ingest the brew to imbue your body and spirit with the knowledge of the eternal ones.”

Shane isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t feel in control of himself as the wizard presses slowly closer, bringing the large spoon to his face. Every instinct he has is holding his jaw clamped shut, but still when the ladle touches his lips, he opens his mouth allowing the liquid to be poured in. It scalds the tip of his tongue, but lands in his stomach like glacier water. Strangely, it has no taste whatsoever.

The wizard stands in front of Shane looking at him expectantly. “Nothing?” he asks.

Shane looks down at his empty palms and flips them over as if he had expected to change colors or shapeshift. “Uh, what was supposed to happen?”

“Hmmm.” The wizard shrugs. “Must be a dud.”

Those are the last words Shane hears before his ears pop into a muffled echo as if he had just plunged his head underwater. His vision begins to swim and distort in shades of green until eventually the room around him disappears and all he’s left with are shifting ripples of green. Seconds later he’s able to make out the shapes of leaves – and then trees. Thousands and thousands of evergreen trees.

Then there’s nothing.

\----------------------------------------------------

Somewhere along the way, Emily had missed the part in life where you learn to retain lifelong friends. Sure, she had Sandy out in the Calico Desert, but she was really more of a pen pal. Emily can get along with pretty much anyone, but there simply aren’t a ton of people she _clicks_ with on a deeper level. So, the novelty of walking up the mountain path with Abigail at dusk has her giddy with excitement.

In a certain sense, she and Abby exist on the same plane, and despite their age difference, Emily believes the pair of them are forming a real bond.

“What do you feel with this one?” she asks placing a yellow crystal in Abigail’s hand. “Try to focus on the aura around it instead of on the stone itself.”

Abby rolls the stone around in the fingers of her left hand. In her right she’s carrying a six-pack of a syrupy chocolate stout she grabbed before locking up at Pierre’s. “It feels sort of sort of electric. Like a jolt of concentrated coffee.”

“You’re a natural!” Emily exclaims taking the gem back. “This is topaz. It’s great for when you need to recharge, and it can help people heal faster.” Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she pulls out a purple gem. “How about this one?”

Abigail stops in her tracks the second Emily places the next stone in her palm.

“What is it?” Emily asks pacing back on the path.

“It’s just… I’m not sure. I feel really connected to this one for some reason. I know it sounds weird, but it feels in harmony with my own energies or something.”

“That’s not weird at all,” Emily assures her. “That’s an amethyst. I like them too. They instill a sense of calm and increase spiritual awareness. What you’re talking about though, the sense of harmony, I feel that with aquamarine.”

“I kind of just…” Abby trails off while staring down at her palm.

“Just what?”

“I kind of want to bite it?”

Emily laughs and puts a hand on her shoulder, “Okay, that one is a little weird. Plus, you’d crack your teeth, so don’t do it.”

“I wasn’t really going to,” Abby says handing the amethyst back. “Hey we’re almost there. I can see the entrance to the cave carved into the cliffside up ahead.”

Emily sees it as well as they hike the path around the mountain lake. “It looks super dark in there.”

“I have a lantern in my backpack. I’ll take it out once we’re inside.”

The flashlight on Emily’s phone isn’t incredibly bright, but it’s enough to light the ground in front of their feet. Once they are through the cave’s entrance, the inner chamber immediately opens up unto a wide, cavernous space. Their footsteps echo off the unseen walls.

Abigail stops once they get to a spot the waning daylight doesn’t quite reach. “This should be good,” she says setting the six-pack down and pulling her backpack off her shoulders. From her bag she pulls a squishy-looking flannel blanket and the promised lantern.

Emily takes the blanket and spreads it out on the stone floor while Abby lights the lantern with a match. A warm, orange glow spreads across the cave chasing away the dank, slightly ominous atmosphere.

“Why’d you choose this place?” Emily asks taking a seat.

Abigail bends down and takes a beer from the box. “You see that over there?” She gestures toward the far wall on the opposite side of the entrance.

In the dimness, Emily can just make out a doorframe that appears to be sealed in the middle. “Is that an elevator?”

“Yep.” Abby opens the beer bottle using the metal edge of the lantern and takes a long drink. “It’s the entrance to the old mines. Legend has it, if you go deep enough, you’ll find monsters.”

Emily crosses her legs and takes a beer of her own, “Do you believe that?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve always been too chicken shit to find out.” She takes another swig. “I’ve lived in this valley my whole life, but I’ve never really done anything memorable.”

Emily pries the lid off her bottle with her teeth. It’s a trick that gets her great tips at work. The beer is thick and rich and way sweeter than anything they currently have on tap at the saloon. “What do you think going down there would do for you?”

Abigail sighs and takes a seat on the blanket, “I don’t know. I’m 24 years old now. I just kind of thought there would something more exciting to life than this. Hell, maybe there is, and I’m just not brave enough to find it.”

Ah, the quarter-life crisis. Emily went through one of those herself. The crushing months that follow the moment you realize you will never be hero in anyone else’s story. After some long bouts of meditation and soul-searching, she eventually found the lack of expectations freeing. It’s the sort of thing you have to work through on your own.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, and eventually a couple of drinks in each of their bellies does wonders to lighten the mood. By the time the bottles are empty, they are giggling like schoolgirls talking about everything from old boyfriends to the places Emily traveled when she was younger. It’s almost one in the morning by the time she checks her phone.

“We should head back, or I won’t be able to drag myself out of bed in time to get anything done before work tomorrow,” Emily says collecting their empty bottles.

Abigail stretches her arms above her head in a full-bodied yawn. “Yeeeeaaaah, the lantern is almost out of oil anyway.”

The pair of them are nearly to the cave’s entrance when something catches Emily’s eye. It’s a giant boulder against the wall. Or, no? It’s not against the wall. It’s embedded into the wall, almost as if it were pushed there purposefully to block another entry point. The boulder itself doesn’t match the rock in the rest of the cave. It’s darker and porous and she can see tiny flecks of minerals reflecting the light causing it to subtly sparkle.

“Em, come on! I’m falling asleep on my feet over here.” Abigail calls to her from the entryway.

“Coming!” she yells back as she moves away from the boulder, turning back to look at it one more time before she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there will be a pseudo-plot and romance that this story will eventually get into, but I really just wanted to write something that feels as cozy to read as SDV feels to play. 
> 
> Right now, the thought of Em & Abby as BFFs is making me giddy with happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

The thing no one ever expects about the void of nothingness is how relaxing it is. It’s entirely free from responsibilities and judgement, a blanket as dark as the space between galaxies. It envelopes you, body and soul. Perhaps unsurprisingly, having your soul ripped from the void back into the harsh reality of life can be an unsettling experience.

_“Hey man, come on.”_

The voice is as distant as the far end of a tunnel.

_“Up and at em’ buddy, I know you ain’t dead.”_

Suddenly the ground exists, and there’s the weight of a body. Then there’s a sharp slap across the body’s face.

_“As much sauce as you put away, you ought to be able to take just about anything.”_

Light erupts through the tiny crescents of his cracked eyelids, and then he’s hit with the horrific realization that he is Shane. A pathetic “uhhhhh” creaks out of his throat.

“There you are, don’t scare a motherfucker like that, huh?”

He opens his eyes fully to see a tree-shrouded sky. “Why am I not dead?”

“Well don’t sound so disappointed about it.” says the familiar voice of a person sitting on the ground beside of him.

Feeling at the ground behind him, Shane pushes himself up with another groan. It’s morning. Where the hell was he last night?

“You look like shit, man. Should take better care of yourself.”

Shane rubs his eyes and turns to see the overall-clad farmer sprawled out on the grass. He takes a look down to assess himself. His clothes and shoes all seem to be accounted for and in their proper places, so things could be off to a worse start. Next, he cranes his neck around to get a read on his location. They’re somewhere in the woods in a small clearing, but nowhere he’s ever been before.

“The hell are we?”

“I call it the secret woods.” The farmer pulls up his legs and rests his arms on top of his knees. “Though, I ‘spect there are probably quite a few folks who know about it.”

He can understand why the farmer calls it that. It just feels sort of different here. The plants, the trees, everything looks especially verdant, maybe even ancient. The notion sends everything flooding back to him, the wizard’s tower, the potion. Shane feels sick to his stomach.

“Was there anyone else here when you found me?”

The farmer shakes his head. Tweed. That’s what the people in town call him. Shane isn’t sure if that’s his real name or nickname bestowed on him due to the fact that the guy always reeks of ganja.

“Nope. You have a drinkin’ buddy last night?”

He doesn’t even bother trying to explain that this isn’t what it looks like. Who would believe him?

“No. No, I just… I should go.”

This time it isn’t just an excuse to get away from another human being. It’s normal for Shane to stumble back to the ranch three sheets to the wind, but he always comes home. He’s always there when Jas wakes up. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. Nine missed calls, all from Marnie’s landline.

Shane tries to stand up but falls right back on his ass.

“Take it easy for a minute, you were out cold,” the farmer says plucking a particularly long blade of grass from the forest floor to chew on.

“Fine, just leave me alone. I promise I’m not going to die.” Shane flops back onto the ground like a petulant child.

Tweed ignores him. “Well if you had a buddy last night, they’re no count. Leavin’ you high and dry like that.”

“Don’t you have a bowl to go smoke somewhere?” Shane groans flat on his back.

“Surely,” he chuckles. “But right now, I’m chasing a different high. The one that comes from a successful forage.”

The farmer lifts a burlap sack that must have been sitting on the ground beside him. From it, he pulls out a bizarre green plant with a stem that’s curled up like a nautilus. “Fiddlehead ferns,” he says, answering the question Shane didn’t ask. “This is the only place in the valley they grow. Going to use em’ to cook up a mess of risotto tonight.”

The mere thought causes Shane’s stomach to lurch. “Geeze, please don’t talk about food right now.”

The wizard had poisoned him. That’s all there is to it. How had he gotten Shane to drink whatever pond scum he had brewing in that pot?

“Can you… can you help me up?” Shane grumbles. He hates asking anyone for help. “I really need to get home to Jas.”

Tweed hops to his feet like a damn showoff, “That little girl of yours? She’s got a mouth on her. Told me the other day I smelled worse than a skunk’s armpit. Course, I’d been shoveling pig shit, so she was right.”

“She’s not mine,” Shane says gripping onto the farmer’s hand.

“You take care of her donchya? That means she’s yours.”

“That’s all debatable.”

Tweed leans back heaving him up with all his weight.

His legs feel like undercooked pasta with untrustworthy joints. Somehow, Shane still manages to start hobbling away. The other man comes up behind him and grabs his shoulders, “Keep headin’ that way, and you’ll march straight into the ocean.”

The farmer attempts to spin him in the right the direction, but honestly, Shane thinks marching into the ocean might be preferable to dealing with whatever’s waiting for him at home.

\-----------------------------------------

The ranch is nestled against the tree line by the forest river about a mile outside of Pelican Town. Aunt Marnie had built it up from the ground to be the go-to supplier of quality livestock in the region. Cattle, goats, rabbits – the ranch dabbles in a bit of everything. Shane’s favorites are the chickens.

When he and Jas first moved to Stardew Valley two years ago, the hens had thrown him for a loop. What he had taken for dumb, screeching birds were in reality affectionate, loyal pets full of personality. The coop is his safe place. When he’s having a day where even the draw of the saloon isn’t worth the stress of going out in public, Shane can be found sitting in the coop’s doorway with a hen dozing in his lap. He’s always wondered if Marnie thinks it’s strange.

He doesn’t have to worry too much about trying to guess what Marnie thinks of him right now. She’s standing outside the front gate when Shane finally trudges back home, and he can tell by the expression on her face that he’s in some deep shit. He pauses on the footpath a few yards away from her, a sullen expression falling across his features.

“Marnie, look, I’m sorry.” Shane isn’t used to hearing his own voice sound so small.

The woman holds a up a warning hand to him. “Stop.”

Shane doesn’t say a word to defend himself. Even if she somehow bought into the ridiculous truth of the situation, he still probably deserves whatever admonishment he has coming his way.

Marnie takes a deep breath, readying herself. “I welcomed you and Jas into this house with open arms because you are both my _family_. Being a family means looking out for each other and sharing responsibilities in the household, and you have not been doing your part.”

Oh, hell. Is she kicking him out?

“I understand.”

The anger lining her face turns to disappointment. “Shane, I know you did not sign up to be a parent, but you are all she has.”

Parent. It’s been two and a half years now, and that word still doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t even like to say he’s her godfather because it sounds like he’s giving himself too much credit. Jas is just sort of stuck with him. The poor kid.

“She has you.”

“I’m an old woman. Jasmin looks at me like a grandmother. She _needs_ you to be there for her.”

When Shane was a kid, Marnie’s hair had been a mousy brown. Now, standing out here in the sunlight, he can see that the gray has started to overtake the color. It’s weird how you notice someone’s age all at once like that.

“She deserves better.”

“Well that may be, but she doesn’t have it.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a fresh cut pink rose. “I’ve told her that you weren’t home this morning because you’d left early to pick up a special gift for her. You are going to go inside and give her this, and you aren’t going to tell her any differently. Do you understand?”

Shane nods and takes the flower. It’s one of the expensive ones Pierre sprays with glitter and calls a ‘Fairy Rose.’ Marnie continues to sternly stare him down as he walks into the house with his tail between his legs. Inside Jas is sitting on the living room floor eating cereal at the coffee table. The television blares with the exaggerated sound effects of a weekend cartoon.

“Hey Pumpkin, this is for you.” It’s not an outright lie, but he still doesn’t feel great about it.

“I told you not to call me that, Sha – _Woah_ is that one of the roses from the market?!” The girl’s spoon clatters to the floor as she rushes over to take her gift.

“Yup, do you like it?”

“It’s the best!”

Of course, Marnie had known the perfect thing to cover up the fact that the guy who’s supposed to take care of Jas dragged himself home at 10 a.m. Shane digs through the kitchen cabinets hoping to find some sort of vase, but comes up empty handed. Pint glass will have to do. He fills the glass with water from the sink and hands it to Jas.

“You should put it in here. It’ll stay alive longer.”

Jas snatches it away and plops the stem of her flower inside, “Thanks! I’m going to put this on my dresser.”

“Hey, rinse your spoon off before you start eating again,” he calls out to her as she runs into her bedroom.

Shane looks down at himself. It’s a good thing kids don’t pay too much attention because he’s fucking filthy from sleeping on the ground all night. When he opens the door to his room, he can tell that Marnie has been in there cleaning. He doesn’t mind, really. He just wishes she wouldn’t go to the trouble. A quick glance around the space will afford anyone the sight of most of his earthly possessions: A television that’s half as old as he is, an outdated game console, a handful of shirts and shorts hanging in his closet with a single pair of pants. Then there’s his collector’s edition gridball signed by his favorite player, Rafael Vasquez-DeSoto. It’s the one thing he owns that he feels any attachment to. Shane does a quick sweep between his mattress and box spring to confirm that his bottle of jaeger is still there, then blindly grabs some clean clothes and heads for the bathroom.

He makes it a point not to look at himself in the mirror as he undresses. A steady diet of pizza and beer has taken its toll on his body over the past couple of years. Honestly though, if he added up all the calories he consumes in a night, he probably should look worse. 40-plus hours a week of manual labor must have some benefit. Shane showers quickly and shaves his face over the sink. He isn’t sure why he bothers. His five o’clock shadow always shows up again by lunchtime, and it annoys him to no end. He’s not even an especially hairy guy.

He has the day off from Joja, and by the time he has himself together, Shane has already vowed to spend the rest of the day with Jas helping out around the ranch.

“Hey kid, get your shoes on, I need your help with the chickens,” he yells across the house, tossing his laundry in the hamper.

Something catches his eye poking out of the front pocket of his dirty shorts. Shane reaches inside and pulls out the note from the community center. How had it gotten there? He hopes the wizard hadn’t tried to cop a feel sticking it in his pocket or something.

Wait – this isn’t the note from the community center. Shane can read this. The basic structure is the same. It’s a floorplan of the old building with lists written in each room, but the words aren’t just meaningless symbols. They aren’t in English either, though. Actually - wait - they _are_ exactly the same as before. What the hell is going on?

Shane runs a finger across the corner of the page where the wizard tore it and continues his examination. Each of the individual lists seems to have theme. One is all fish, another appears to be different types of metal. What does it all mean? Is he meant to collect all this shit?

One list in particular catches his eye. It’s one that he could gather together in a couple of hours on the ranch: eggs, wool, milk, and various other animal products.

“Shane, I’m ready. Come on let’s go!” Jas calls to him from the living room.

“Yeah, I’m coming” he yells back grabbing a canvas shopping bag off a nearby coat rack hoping it’ll be big enough.

\------------------------------------------

It’s like having a song stuck in your head on repeat. Sometimes it’ll be there for days. Except this isn’t a song. It’s a boulder.

Emily will gladly admit she spends a lot more time thinking about rocks than most people, but not like this. This isn’t about the potential healing and spiritual properties of the boulder. This is about what’s on the other side. What could possibly be so important to hide that someone was willing to move something that massive in the way?

Clearly, Emily knows she won’t be able to brute force the boulder out of her way. She goes into the living room and fires up her old desktop from college. The machine clicks and whirs as it starts up making her realize that she should really consider saving up for a new computer. When she’s finally able to get online, she tries to do a search for what sorts of explosives could be used to blow up a rock like that without bringing down the whole cave.

“You’re going to end up on a terrorist watchlist if you keep looking at shit like that.”

The voice behind Emily causes her to jump in her chair. She hadn’t even realized her sister was home. She turns to see Haley in a gauzy, blue dress looking as trendy and polished as ever. A pink, patent leather handbag is slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, you have a date tonight?” Emily asks trying to change the subject. She doesn’t think Haley would understand why she’s doing what she’s doing. Heck, she barely understands herself.

Haley holds an arm out, examining her nail polish. Two bracelets dangle from her slim wrist. A silver one that belonged to their great-grandmother and a macramé friendship bracelet that Emily made for her as a teenager. “Alex is taking me to the new exhibit at the Rallaway Gallery in Zuzu. We have tickets to the opening reception.”

Emily smiles because she remembers Haley entering a photography contest for a chance to win those tickets. She had submitted a trio of seabird photos taken in the gray light of winter. It’s no surprise she won.

It _is_ a surprise that she’s taking her sort-of boyfriend Alex along with her. Alex is fit and handsome, and he has the same general vibe as most every guy Haley has ever dated. Emily thinks he’s decent enough, but a  
connoisseur of art he is not.

“Are you guys taking the bus?”

Haley wrinkles her nose at the notion like she hasn’t taken hundreds of bus rides in her lifetime, “No, Alex is driving us.”

Alex is around Haley’s age, but he still lives with his grandparents. Emily suspects he’s probably borrowing his grandmother’s old station wagon for the trip.

Emily can feel the confident energy her sister is radiating. Haley is really feeling herself even more than usual, and she wants to support her strong frame of mind. “You should wear mom’s good perfume! It’s in the bathroom cabinet.”

Their parents had been vacationing near the perfume capitol of the world when their 30th anniversary came around, and their father had bought their mother an exorbitantly expensive bottle of a floral-scented fragrance. It’s so valuable that their mother feels uncomfortable traveling with it, and since their parents are _always_ traveling, it’s hardly ever been used.

“You know, that’s actually a great idea.”

It stings a little how surprised Haley is that Emily had suggested something she approves of.

Emily can hear her sister moving things around in the bathroom as she turns her attention back to the computer. Now that she’s seen the reaction that her online search evoked in a third party; she’s begun to realize that maybe using explosives is out of her range of expertise.

She sighs and flops her head over the back of the computer chair. She’s just going to need to get a better assessment of the situation to figure out how she needs to proceed.

\--------------------------------------------

Generally speaking, Emily feels pretty good about herself. It hasn’t always been that way, and just like everyone else she has her occasional moments of self-doubt, but for the most part she has grown into a person who is confident in who she is. Tonight though, as her sister is on her way to a fancy party in Zuzu City with her hot boyfriend while Emily is walking through town alone on a quest to re-visit an oversized hunk of gravel, she’s starting to question her life choices.

It’s that type of summer weather where even the slow setting of the sun isn’t enough to cool off the humid air. In an attempt to beat the heat, Emily threw on a thin slip of a dress she had made from the last of a bolt of silk. She knows it doesn’t at all match her well-worn tennis shoes, but she figures looking like a mad woman right now is an apt visage.

The footpath to the mountain leads her by the saloon, and she can see a few people milling about outside drinking and playing horseshoes. It always feels a little strange to look into the place where you work when you aren’t working. It makes Emily feel a peculiar sense of guilt. Like she should be in there helping out.

As she gets closer, she sees the silhouette of a person leaving the saloon and heading her way on the footpath. Pelican town has to be one of the safest towns Emily has ever been in, and she’s been a lot of places. Still, she feels the impending sense of dread that comes with being a woman walking by herself in the dark.

As the person draws closer, Emily can make out the bulky figure of the blacksmith. A sense of relief dips through her chest. At least he seems harmless enough.

“Emily,” Clint says continuing to approach her. “I didn’t think you worked today.”

“I don’t. I was just walking by.” Odd. She can’t remember ever telling him anything about her schedule.

“Well, that’s alright.” He’s holding a bottle of beer in one hand, but he seems fairly sober. “Hey, have you thought about when you’d like to meet up to talk about gemstones. I have a lesson plan laid out.”

Emily had forgotten all about telling him that she would do that. “Oh – I’m not sure. I actually have a good idea about how gems are –”

“You know, you shouldn’t be walking around this late dressed like that,” he cuts her off. “People could get the wrong idea about you.”

Her arms instinctively cross across her chest. Emily wants out of this conversation, but for some reason she can’t string the words together to politely excuse herself.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He grips onto her bare shoulder with a calloused hand. “Let me walk you home so you can get changed.”

Locked up. Frozen. That’s how she feels. Massively uncomfortable, but unable to communicate it.

“Is something going on here?” says a voice on the path behind her.

Clint’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “No. Nothing that concerns you.”

Emily looks back to see Shane walking their way carrying a heavy canvass bag. “Hey, Em. We should get a move on. We’re going to be late.”

“Ummm?” Emily manages to get out, confused.

Shane casually strolls past the two of them. He has a sturdy-looking yellow flashlight in his other hand. “Our plans, remember. We need to get going.”

“Oh…” Emily says. “Oh! Right.” She pulls away from the blacksmith’s rough grip. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Her shoes kick up dust on the path as she jogs to catch up with Shane. Emily doesn’t look back, but she can feel Clint watching them until they’re around the corner and out of sight.

“Thanks,” she whispers. “I wasn’t sure how to get out of that.”

“You could have just told that guy to go fuck himself,” Shane says.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I just think he has the wrong idea about me.”

“Has he been giving you trouble for a while?”

“I – you think he was giving me trouble?” For someone so in tune with people’s auras, sometimes Emily just has a difficult time figuring out what their intentions are. 

“Geeze, Em. I know you don’t like to think anything bad about anyone, but you should have seen what that looked like.”

The pair of them walk past the edge of town where the streetlights end, and Shane flips on the flashlight to illuminate their way.

“Sorry, I know you were probably headed to the saloon tonight. You don’t have to walk with me any farther.”

“Nah.” Shane shakes his head. “Not tonight. This is actually the way I was heading anyway.”

Emily feels comfortable walking with Shane. She knows he drinks too much and seems unfriendly at first, but she doesn’t believe he would ever cause anyone harm. She can see why the folks around town haven’t warmed up to him, though. He comes off as quite surly before he gets to know someone.

Shane comes to a pause right before the path begins to slope up to the mountain. “Hey, this is my stop.” He gestures to a big, abandoned building over in the field. “Actually, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She watches as he sprints across the field with his flashlight and his bag of… well she hadn’t thought to ask what he’s carrying around. The building Shane is headed for is falling apart. Emily has seen it plenty of times before, but she’s never paid much attention. Every place she’s ever been to seems to have a building just like it, sitting on the outskirts of town slowly decaying.

Shane disappears around the far side of the structure, and then Emily sees his flashlight shining from inside the cracked windows. Why on Earth is he breaking into a dilapidated old building? It only takes a moment before he comes treading back out with only his flashlight in hand.

“What was that about?” she asks.

“You’d think I was crazy if I told you.” Shane shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “How far were you planning on walking tonight?”

“Up to the entrance of the mines. Have you ever been?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I can come with you if you want. Don’t be surprised if I have to stop and catch my breath, though. I’m really out of shape.”

Emily smiles. She’s never had the chance to hang out with Shane outside of the saloon. This could be an opportunity for her to add another burgeoning friendship to her collection. 

“That would be really great!” It comes out sounding more enthusiastic than she meant it to and leaves Shane with a puzzled look on his face.

“Come on!” she waves him forward continuing her march up the path. Probably best not to give him too much time to dwell on it.

Emily has never had a full conversation with Shane while he’s entirely sober, so she’s unsure what sort of talking points she should throw out on their walk. He doesn’t talk a lot at the saloon, and when he does, he’s usually complaining about his job. She knows he has a little girl that he cares for. Not a daughter, but maybe a niece? She also knows he moved to Stardew Valley around the same time she started living there full time.

“You live at the big ranch outside of town, right? That sort of work must be really rewarding.”

“Yeah, the ranch is alright,” he shrugs. “The kid likes all the animals, and I know it sounds stupid, but the chickens kind of keep me sane.”

“That’s not stupid at all. It’s so easy to just get caught up in our jobs and our responsibilities. We all have to find the things that remind us to enjoy life.” Emily has a few things of her own that she treasures: the time she spends sewing, her gemstones, and of course her island.

“I really envy you, you know? You’re always so upbeat. I could never be like that.” Shane’s aura feels really low, almost hollow.

“Have you ever tried meditating? I could help you sometime. It’s one of my specialties.”

“Buh, I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like something I’d be any good at.” He suddenly jerks his flashlight ahead of them on the trail “Hey, is that it?” The beam of light is focused on the entrance to the cave ahead.

“Yes, let’s get inside! There’s something I want to check out.” She takes off ahead of him leaving Shane scrambling to keep up with her on the rocky pathway.

The glittering boulder is still in the same place as before. For some reason, the sight relieves her. As if she thought the whole thing might have been some sort of fever dream. Emily places her hands on the rock’s surface and tries to feel its energy. It isn’t giving off much. It feels like some sort of granite covered in flecks of mica.

Shane walks up beside her a few moments later breathing heavily from his sprint. “Looks like – huhhh fuck – looks like it’s blocking something off.”

“I know. I came here a few days ago, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.”

She keeps her hands on the boulder’s cool surface, trying to imagine the pressure and the heat that caused it to form over thousands of years. It feels much older than the rock that makes up the cave walls. Emily wonders if anyone else has ever noticed it and felt the same about it as she does. Like it’s a mystery left behind for someone to figure out.

“Check this out,” she hears from Shane, whom she’s just realized has wondered a fair distance away. He’s walking back toward her now carrying a rusted old pickaxe that must have been left behind from the time when this was an active mine. “Think it can make a dent?”

Emily doubtfully looks between the boulder and the time-worn tool. “You can give it a shot. I’m sure you’re stronger than me.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Shane says setting the flashlight down and flipping the pickaxe over in his hands. “Just stand back, okay.”

She nods and backs away. Even if he can manage to chip off a chunk of the stone, it would take all night to break all the way through it.

Gripping the handle with both hands, Shane rears the pickaxe back over his shoulder and brings it down onto the boulder with a solid _CLANG._ The second it makes contact, the head of the pickaxe flight off into the darkness of the cave, landing somewhere unseen with a second metallic clatter.

“Shit!” Shane attempts to duck out of the way far too slowly.

“Are you alright?” Emily asks rushing over.

“Yeah, are you?” He stares in surprise at the broken end of the handle.

“I’m fine.” She runs her hand over the unblemished rock surface that was just struck. “I don’t think that did anything.”

“It’s going to leave me sore as hell in the morning,” Shane says rubbing his arm.

“Sorry, it’s my fault really. I wish I had some topaz on me.”

“It’s not your fault. It was my stupid idea to try that in the first place.” He looks up toward the top of the boulder. It’s nearly twice as tall as he is. “Whoever put this here really didn’t want anyone getting through.”

Someone had thought that it was so important to keep people away from whatever is on the other side, they were willing to go to great lengths to seal it off. Emily tries to imagine the amount of manpower moving something so colossal must have taken, the shear effort involved must have been excruciating. 

It should feel like a warning. Like a wordless ‘keep out’ sign.

But it doesn’t.

It feels like a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get into Shane's family tree a bit more later, but here's a note for anyone curious now. Marnie is Shane's aunt and Jas' great Aunt. Shane and Jas are cousins, but he is still her godfather.


End file.
